"You took my bishop!"

FIVE.

"Tempest, stop daydreaming and help me with this dress."

Miriam was exasperated. "I swear you are getting younger instead of older. Your guests are waiting for you. Can you not at least pretend to look forward to this party. Your mother has planned a big surprise tonight. I heard her mention it to Lady Junia today. Tempest. .."

"I am sorry, Miriam. My mind was elsewhere. I will hurry.

I would not want to keep Mother waiting." She looked at the beautiful clothes lying on her bed.

Tempest did not want to go to her mother's fancy party.

She hated getting dressed for these special occasions but, as she looked at the lovely dress lying on her bed, she found her reluctance diminishing.

"Today is an important day in your life," Miriam reminded her. "I made this for you to wear. I hope you like it." She handed Tempest a bundle wrapped in a dark green scarf, tied with a pale green satin ribbon.

"You did not have to give me anything, Miriam. All I ever need from you is your love and guidance." Her eyes twinkled, and she gave Miriam a saucy little grin. "But I will take a present any time if 'tis something you made."

"You always have my love," answered Miriam gruffly.

"Now open it so we can start getting you ready."

Tempest carefully untied the ribbon. "'Tis a pretty ribbon,"

she commented. "I can wear it in my hair tonight." She carefully unfolded the scarf. Inside she found a soft, white chemise. There was a delicate edging of lace around the low neckline, and tiny pink rosebuds with green leaves were embroidered around the neck and hem. It was shorter than her other chemises and there

was a wide band of lace around the bottom. Tempest ran her hand lovingly over the soft, filmy material.

"'Tis not cotton or linen." she said. "I have never felt material like this before. What is it? 'Tis like a floating cloud."

"They call it silk," answered Miriam. "I got it at a fair several years ago, but it just was not something I wanted to wear. You are a woman now and need to feel like one. Even Lady Christiana does not have a chemise made of this material."

"I will wear it tonight under my new clothes. Help me, Miriam." She removed her old worn chemise, and Miriam helped her into the new one. It seemed to glide over her skin like a soft summer breeze as it slid over her body.

"It feels delicious." Tempest could not resist running her hands over her new garment. "This must be what sin feels like."

"You are too young to know what sin feels like," grumbled Miriam. "Lift up your arms now and help me with this dress."

She lifted the new dress carefully from the bed and slipped it over her head and down Tempest's curvy body.

Miriam examined her critically. Her long undertunic was a light green cotton with sleeves that draped loosely to just below her elbows, then fitted her arms tightly to the wrist where they ended in a point which reached almost to her fingers. Her soft, velvet surcoat fitted loosely and fell to the tips of her dark green slippers. Embroidered with tiny leaves and rosebuds around the square neckline and the hem, it was the deep, rich green of a summer forest. The leaves were sewn with silver thread, and each tiny rosebud was a splash of gold. She handed Tempest a girdle of silver links with tiny silver bells on each end. The young woman draped it loosely around her waist, then sat on a small wooden bench so Miriam could arrange her hair.

"I think 'tis time for you to wear your hair up," commented Miriam. "Today you have reached adulthood, and we must make sure everyone can see that." She piled Tempest's hair on her head, arranged it in loose curls and wound the green ribbon artfully through the curls.

Spellbound, Tempest watched her and was amazed to see

a beautiful young woman emerge where there had once been a young girl.

"I cannot believe 'tis me, Miriam," said Tempest softly. "I almost look beautiful. Thank you for knowing what to do."

Before Miriam could comment, there was a rap on the door.

Tristan peeked his head around the door and asked, "May I enter, little sister?"

"Of course, Tris," Tempest called out, watching him in her mirror. "You know you are always welcome."

Tristan sauntered into the room. "Tempest, I..." He stopped and stared, his jaw agape, as she turned toward him. "Great G.o.ds, Tempest," he said softly. "You have changed into a woman overnight." His voice was gruff with emotion.

"So sudden...Yesterday you were a little girl...Now I do not seem to know you." He thrust a small package into her hands, turned and fled before she could speak.

Tempest looked at the small wooden box she held. It had tiny ivy vines carved about the edges, each vine covered with perfectly formed leaves. In the center of the lid the vines curled to form a heart, and her name was carved into its center. Tempest knew it had taken Tristan many hours to make the box for her birthday, and it touched her heart as no other gift could have.

"'Tis beautiful," breathed Miriam. "Is there anything inside?"

Tempest opened the box. Inside was a deep red velvet lining. Nestled in the velvet lay a pair of silver earrings. Each earring was a perfect tiny lightning bolt with a black enameled thundercloud behind it.

Lovingly, she lifted them from the box and held them to the light to see them more clearly. The enamel had been poured into silver wires shaped like clouds. There was no metal behind the fired enamel, and the light from the candle danced behind each tiny cloud, appearing to make it come alive. The wires around the clouds gave them a slight silver lining which also gave power to the lightning bolt.

"Pretty," observed Miriam.

"They are a tempest. Miriam, they are my name." Tempest swallowed to relieve the sudden lump in her throat. "The box

would have been enough. These earrings must have cost him dearly. Miriam, I love him so much. Why did he not stay so I could tell him how much I love his gift?"

"Your brother needs no thanks, Tempest. He knows how much you love him, for he loves you the same." Miriam wiped her stinging eyes with her sleeve. Tempest had few people in her life who truly loved her, and Miriam daily thanked the G.o.ds for Tristan's unconditional love for his sister.

"Now you must get yourself ready. Your guests are waiting and your mother will be angry if you delay longer, mooning over a pair of earrings," she growled to cover a sudden overpowering love for the young woman who meant more to her than anyone else in her life. "Put them on and let us go."

As they made their way down the narrow, winding, stone steps to the dining room, they could hear the soft babble of voices.

"Too many people, Miriam," said Tempest softly. "I do not want to go. I feel ill. I must return to my room. They are my mother's friends, not mine." She turned to retreat back up the stairs, but Miriam blocked her path.

"This gathering is for you, Tempest, to introduce you to the unmarried knights and n.o.bles so you may find yourself a husband. You are eighteen years old this day, and you must make choices to ensure your future and that of your family.

'Tis very important for you to attend this dinner, and you must be on your best behavior." Her voice softened with love. "I realize you are frightened. You are not accustomed to this. But 'tis a fact of life and must be faced with courage. Just remember that all we do is done for love of you. Go dearling, I will be with you."

Tempest took a deep breath, straightened her back, turned and descended the last few steps to the noise-filled room.

Courage was one thing she knew she had in plenty. Had not she just spent the afternoon conversing with a dragon? She smiled at the thought and entered the room.

The dining room was filled with people. By the richness of their clothing, Tempest knew they were all n.o.bles and that Lady Christiana had outdone herself in the invitations she had

sent. Only the wealthiest suitors would be given consideration for the favorite daughter of Wendall Sanct Joliet.

Unfortunately for the young woman, most of the men invited to the celebration seemed to be well past their prime.

There were very few unmarried men close to Tempest's age residing in he vicinity of Windhaven.

Tempest faltered for a moment, but she quickly remembered the beautiful golden dragon and her smile returned. As she made her way to the head table where her family awaited she was determined to get through this evening with as little difficulty as possible.

"Tempest," said Wendall, rising to his feet. "You are positively beautiful tonight. You rival every woman in the kingdom." He took her small hand in his and turned to the a.s.sembled n.o.bility.

"Gentlemen...Ladies." The room grew quiet. "May I present to you my daughter, Tempest? We have come together to celebrate her coming of age."

A man Tempest had never seen before rose to his feet and spoke. "May I be the first to toast the lovely daughter of the castle on this, the day of her birth?" He raised his goblet in salute. "To Tempest, may your life be long, your children many and your husband rich, strong and brave enough to weather any storm."

The guests, as one, rose to their feet and joined the man in his toast. Tempest blushed in embarra.s.sment, unhappy to be the center of so much attention.

Wendall, realizing how she felt, took her hand, raised it to his lips, kissed it and looked out over his a.s.sembled guests.

"My daughter is a modest young woman and is not accustomed to this much attention. Please, continue with your meal. There will be entertainment anon."

Tempest sank gratefully into the chair by her father and busied herself with the stew in her trencher, hoping to escape further notice. She wished this celebration would soon be over so she could go to her room and reminisce about her conversation with the dragon. She could not seem to banish the afternoon's adventure from her thoughts.

She toyed with her food for long moments but soon became curious about the people who had attended her party. Shyly, she glanced up. No one in the huge dining hall seemed to be giving her any notice, so she was able to observe the guests with ease. As she looked around the great dining hall, she begin to notice that most of the guests were men of middle age or older-some she regarded as positively ancient. For a time she was panicked but then recalled a conversation with her father only days before.

"Tempest," he had said when she had confided her hopes and fears concerning her future. "You will be offered a great many suitors to choose from. I want only your happiness and would never force you into a marriage which does not suit you. Fear not, sweeting, you have plenty of time to choose, and I shall help you to find only the very best man with whom to spend the rest of your life. Caroline married for love, and so shall you."

As she glanced from guest to guest, Tempest began to form idle speculations as to their lives and wealth. She began to put silly names to each face, trying to match the names to their actions at the table. But she soon became bored with her game and again looked, this time in earnest, for Tristan. She had always been able to share funny, secret little jokes with him and wondered why he was not present on this, the most important night of her life.

She began to feel uncomfortable, as if someone was trying to draw her attention. "Tristan?" she wondered. But this was not the sort of feeling she shared with Tristan. This feeling was one tinged with fear and something else she could put no name to. This was a feeling of cold, dank earth, contaminated with foul, rotten, decayed things. She closed her eyes, dizzy for a moment, then looked across the room to a far table. There she found the source of her discomfort.

He sat below the salt, where only the poorest people sat.

The table at that end was dimly lit and he was partially in the shadows. She could not see his face, but Tempest could feel the pull of his magnetically intense stare. Red eyes glowed from deep within the darkness of the cowl which covered his

head. She felt drawn unwillingly to a place from which she knew she would never return, a place of unhappiness, of chains and pain, a place where she would lose all that meant life and order, a place of death.

Panic-stricken, she tried to detach her gaze from those crimson, glowing orbs, but he was too powerful. She could not even close her eyes. No one else in the room seemed to even notice the man. Were her witch's powers showing what none else could see?

Unbidden, a face came between her and the man. It was Lysira as she had been when she had spoken so gently to Tempest at the creek. Then the image changed to the time when she had told Tempest her future in the cards. Calmness came over the girl. She drew in a deep breath and raised her hand, first and last fingers raised in the ancient sign to ward off the Evil Eye. The spell was broken. The man's focus was averted.

She no longer felt the pull of his stare, no longer felt threatened.

She could now see him in a true light.

He was dressed differently from the other people in the room. Their finery was crafted from bright colors in satin, velvet and precious silk, whereas, his raiment was black, made of coa.r.s.e wool. His dirty black robe was tied at the waist with a sisal cord, rough and unsightly. The hood was pulled up to conceal his face, but she could still feel the power of his eyes which had drawn her toward bone-chilling darkness. She shuddered and quickly looked away, determined not to let the incident mar the happiness of the evening.

"Where is Tristan?" Tempest asked her father. "I thought he would be here to share my night. Surely he would not miss this party. He is not ill is he? I saw him earlier, and he seemed fine."

"Tristan did not attend this banquet by my orders,"

Christiana interceded. "I will not have a b.a.s.t.a.r.d in this hall when I dine."

"Mother!" Tempest exclaimed angrily. "Tristan is just as much my brother as Caroline is my sister. Just because my father was not wed to his mother does not make him any less a true Sanct Joliet. You know that Father would acknowledge

him as a son if you would not be so set against it. 'Tis my night, and I want him here!"

"It will not happen, Tempest. I have discussed this with your father, and he is in full agreement with my decision. We shall not speak further of this." Christiana spoke softly and without discernible emotion, but there was steel behind her words, and Tempest knew well what would follow further argument with her strong-willed mother. She had been punished severely in the past for standing up for her beloved Tristan and had good reason to fear her mother's anger.

"Tristan understands, Tempest," Wendall interrupted before the argument could grow even more heated. "There are many guests attending here tonight and his duties lie in the stables. You know he takes his responsibilities very seriously.

Besides, 'tis my opinion that your brother would much prefer the company of horses to seeing his sister put on display for all the n.o.bles to evaluate." Wendall took Tempest's small hand tenderly in his own and whispered so none but she could hear.

"Please do not anger her further, sweetness. I hate it so when she rails against Tristan. I love him too, and I do acknowledge him, just not officially-not yet anyway, but soon, Tempest, soon.

"Now," he said loudly, raising his head to look out over his guests. "I believe 'tis time for some entertainment. Let the revelry begin."

A minstrel entered the room and an expectant hush fell over the audience. A good minstrel was rare and everyone looked forward to a well-sung tale. The men would relish a story of battles well fought, full of glory and legend. The women hoped for a tale of love and betrayal, but with a happy ending, although many would be just as happy to shed copious tears at a tragic ending.

The room was quiet when the young man began. Tempest recognized his voice immediately. Tristan had donned a well- thought-out disguise and was here at her party, risking the wrath of Lady Christiana should he be discovered. But the latter had no inkling of the deception by the b.a.s.t.a.r.d she so loathed. She had rarely spoken to him over the years and did not recognize

his voice.

Tempest smiled with relief and satisfaction, knowing that her brother would once again escape punishment for one of his little escapades.

She sat back, ready to enjoy the entertainment, more because of Tristan's little wickedness than because of the tale itself.

"This is a tale for our Tempest, in honor of her little adventure this afternoon. A dragon tale for a dragon lady." There were several gasps from the listeners at this minstrel's boldness, but Tristan ignored them and began to sing.

From darkling depths, the Terrors came, Dragons one and all.

Dread conquerors descend to Earth, Screamed their fighting call.

First iridescent R'iadan Laid waste with fearful art, Rained flaming death on hapless man, With hatred in her heart.